Leonard leaned forward in his chair, rubbing his bleary eyes. He swallowed hard, blinking, and glanced at the captain's unoccupied desk. Several tablets sat in a neat stack next to a stylus. Kirk's nameplate was shoved off the one side, along with a glass whose bottom was ringed with a pale yellow liquid. Glancing over his shoulder, he reached for the glass and allowed the few drops of beverage to trickle past his lips. Lemonade…with a touch of…grapefruit? He closed his eyes, felt the grit that had collected in the lids and the lines around them.
Swish. The familiar gold of a command uniform appeared in the doorway. Leonard set the glass down and raised himself to stand at attention as Kirk entered the office. "Ahem. Sir." He folded his hands behind his back, even as a bead of sweat dribbled down his forehead.
"At ease, Doctor," Kirk replied, waving one hand towards the chair in a 'be seated' gesture, and did likewise. Leaning forward onto the desk, he tented his fingers together and studied McCoy for several moments, his gaze probing.
Another rivulet of sweat rolled down behind McCoy's ear. Confound it, Jim, say something! I know I would… He slumped forward in his chair, letting out a puff of air, and ran his fingers through his damp hair. Winced as some of the strands became caught in his ring.
Kirk spun his chair around in a slow circle and reached for the top tablet in the stack. It lit up when he touched it, and he gave the screen a cursory glance, his expression inscrutable. Used to be able to read you like a book…what're you thinking?
Rolling the stylus between his fingers a couple of times, Kirk pointed it at McCoy's face. He looked back down at the tablet. "'Unfit for duty by reason of mental instability…'" He looked McCoy in the eye. "You're positive about your conclusions?"
McCoy nodded. "100%. Erratic behavior, irritability…"
Kirk gave him a half smile as he scrawled something on the edge of the page. "Funny, I thought that was baseline for the 'subject.'"
McCoy snorted. Hilarious. "Let me finish...hallucinations, inability to adequately perform duties…in short, a liability, Jim." He leaned forward. "My recommendation is suspension from duty pending a full medical and psychiatric evaluation."
"Is that so?" Kirk set the stylus down and pushed the tablet to one side. "I noticed the only signature on the evaluation form is yours, Bones." He drummed his fingers on the edge of the tablet. "Are you sure you're qualified to make such a recommendation? Being the patient in question, and all?"
McCoy jumped up from his chair, sending it skating backwards. "You have the last word, Jim! C'mon! Look at me!I haven't gotten a decent night's sleep in a week, I look like hell-" He threw his arms wide and gestured down his right side, indicating the wrinkled furrows of his medical uniform.
Kirk edged his seat backwards. "I was going to say-"
"-everything I touch disappears, I'm treating people twice or not at all-" McCoy sucked in a lungful of air, snapping his mouth shut. He glanced over at Kirk. The captain was standing in the corner of his office, back turned, tapping the screen of the replicator mounted in the corner. His empty glass was now resting next to a model of the ship.
Striding over to the glass wall of the office, McCoy leaned his head against the cool surface until his pulse began to slow. That enough proof for you? He rotated slowly, one hand still resting on the wall.
Kirk tipped his head sideways. "You okay? I thought you might need a moment." He set a second glass full of blue liquid on the desktop. "And this." He pushed it in McCoy's direction..
"Thanks." Leonard shuffled over to his seat and eased down, reaching for the drink. He drained half of the beverage in the time it took for Kirk to push his rolling chair around the desk until it was facing the doctor's. "Ah. Needed that."
"Well, now that you've taken Dr. Jim's prescription…" Kirk leaned forward, resting his chin on one hand, elbow propped on his knees. "Care to tell me why I should stick you in a Federation rest home for the foreseeable future?"
Leonard eased back, eyes closed. "It all started about a week ago…"
"Hold still…this is gonna pinch a little." McCoy squinted through the magnifying viewer at Ensign Weaver's bloody palm, tethered to a brace to prevent the patient from moving. Lowering the tweezers, he grasped the barbed end of the embedded stinger, careful to avoid putting pressure on its venom sac. "In one, two, three…"
With a quick jerk, McCoy removed the offending object and deposited it on a nearby tray. Exchanging the tweezers for a medical probe, he scanned the woman's hand. "Minimal toxicity, puncture is uncomplicated…a simple closure and some fluids are all that will be required." He set down the probe and reached for a tissue repairer, flicking it on.
McCoy ran the device over the geologist's palm. Bathed in blue light, the torn flesh re-sealed itself, leaving behind a faint pink mark. She smiled sheepishly at him. "That's what I get for swatting at strange flies sight unseen."
"Mmm hmm." McCoy snapped the repairer off and traded it for a hypo. He pressed it to Weaver's neck, then began to make notes on a tablet mounted next to the biobed. "All right, we're done here. If it starts to turn red again or swell up, don't hesitate to see me, okay?"
The ensign nodded, but made no move to leave.
After a few moments, McCoy glanced up from his note taking, stylus raised. "Something else on your mind, Estelle?"
"No…on my hand." At his look of confusion, Weaver wiggled the fingers of her injured hand and angled her head toward the restraint. "'Cause I'm kinda cuffed here…"
What… "Oh!" McCoy shook his head. Idiot. He pushed the tablet aside and unlocked the examination brace. "Sorry about that."
"Mmm." Weaver rubbed her wrist, then slid off the bed. Adjusting her blue skirt, she headed out of the examination room with a graceful stride, stopping briefly to greet a passing yeoman.
McCoy scrawled his signature on the bottom of the page and cleared Weaver's record from the screen. He reached for the tray of used tools, pausing as a feminine shadow loomed over him. "Nurse? Would you take this and dispo-" He turned. Nobody was there. What? Then whose shadow… He set the tray on the bed and exited the room, looking from side to side.
Sickbay wasn't especially busy at the moment; of the multiple medical stations available in the common treatment area, only two biobeds were currently in use. Dr. Hearn was administering a routine vaccination to Crewman Ulster on the nearest one, while Nurse Tuala was running a digestive scan on Lieutenant Vrasniek two rows down on the opposite side of thr room. The lieutenant looked positively green. One hand clutched his stomach, while the other was clamped over his mouth.
Another nurse darted past him, the soles of her shoes slapping against the floor. He grabbed her arm, bringing her to a halt. "Tanya, were you just in room 4 a moment ago?"
The blonde shook her head. "No, I was in the supply cupboard, getting a pan." McCoy followed her gaze towards Vrasniek. The lieutenant's cheeks were puffed out, his eyes ever widening. "For Andrej-"
"Go." McCoy released her arm. She made it to Vrasniek's side just as the lieutenant began to spew orange and yellow chunks everywhere. As Ulster exited the bay, tool kit swinging from one hand, Dr. Hearn set down his hypo and ran to the other bed, calling out instructions to the nurses, who hurried to do his bidding. Tanya remained by Vrasniek's side, one comforting hand resting on his back, the other one holding the pan steady beneath his open mouth.
Satisfied all was being taken care of, McCoy returned to his examining room. Yawning, he reached for the edge of the tool tray…and touched empty air. He frowned. Didn't I just- He spun around. Nobody.. Maybe I put it somewhere else. He opened all the cabinet drawers, pushing various items aside, then bent down and looked under the bed. Standing back up, he lifted one hand to his forehead. Where did that darn thing go?
McCoy strode back out the door, stopping, his hands on his hips. Letting out a puff of air, he shook his head. I bet somebody just cleaned it up when I was busy. Best staff in the 'fleet. He walked over to one of the personnel sanitizer units and slid his hands inside, humming along with the sound of the machine. I don't deserve these folks…
"Okay…" Kirk shrugged. "So you lost a tray, saw a phantom female…stuff that could happen to anyone." He chuckled. "Did I ever tell you about the time I mistook a pillar of blythenirite crystal for Commander Spock?"
"That was different, Jim. Everybody was having issues, and all because some code-happy technician at Command fouled up the tricorder software update." McCoy tapped one foot against the floor. "All you had to do was take one look at that thing, and you'd know-"
"C'mon, it even had the ears…"
McCoy waved his hand in front of Kirk's face, cutting him off. "Even so-"
"The resemblance was fleeting, at best." Both men looked up as the Vulcan in question strode into the office, coming to a stop at Kirk's side. "And hardly deserving of the scrutiny Dr. McCoy's recent experiences warrant." He glanced over at the captain. "My apologies, sir. I was recording a video correspondence when you requested my presence at this meeting, or I would have arrived sooner."
"Well, you didn't miss much. And as for your timing…" McCoy chuckled. "Does the phrase 'speak of the devil and he shall appear' mean anything to you?"
The Vulcan raised an eyebrow. "To the issue at hand; am I correct in surmising that these unsettling occurrences have since escalated?"
"How am I looney? Let me count the ways?" McCoy paraphrased. He tapped his left index finger with his right. "Let's start with coffee cups that I emptied, only to find them filled again. Making notes on the wrong patient files. Misplacing at least a dozen hyposprays. Removing the same mole from Yeoman Lobel's thigh twice in the span of 3 hours - I'll swear to it." He rubbed his forehead. "Under oath, if necessary."
Kirk shook his head. "No, that's fine. I believe you."
"As do I. You have no logical reason to lie about such matters." Spock nodded. "Please, continue."
The doctor took another sip from his glass, wiping his mouth with one sleeve. "Well, hold on to your hats. It only went downhill from there…"
The doors of the biological sample containment room slid shut behind a hazard-suited McCoy as he stepped inside. He reached towards the wall and pressed the light switch, waiting for the red glow of the biolamps to activate.
In his gloved hands, he carried a cryo-transit case, ready to receive several tissue samples he had extracted from the deceased crewmembers of the L'Anse-aux-Meadows, a derelict personnel transport the Enterprise had intercepted on a collision course with the primary star of the Othmeda system.
Preliminary examination of the remains had indicated their deaths were caused by exposure to a highly toxic form of radiation. Now that the Enterprise was docked at Starbase D-3, the transport's home base, for the next couple of days, the commodore had requested all samples be transferred there for further analysis. It'll do 'em good to have some closure about what happened…
He shuddered, recalling how he and the away team had found the crewmembers, still hunched over their workstations or lying on bunks in various states of liquification. Hard and fast…hell of a way to die.
Moving down to the end of the row, he turned a corner and stopped. Instead of the refrigerated containment units he expected to see, a thick wall of shimmering yellow fog loomed in front of him. A coolant leak…why didn't it trip the alarm systems?
Setting aside the case, McCoy waved his arms in front of him in an attempt to dispel the vapor, coughing instinctively despite the contained respirator unit he wore. He took a couple of slow steps forward, only to bump into something gelatinous and warm. Backing up again, he reached out a hand until it pressed against the surface, which gave slightly beneath the pressure. A shrill whistling sound pulsated through the room, making his ears ring, and he squeezed his eyes shut from the pain.
As he turned to leave, the substance wrapped itself around him, locking the doctor in its rubbery embrace. McCoy thrust out a foot as it lifted him off the ground, trying to free himself, but only pushing his body deeper into the cocoon. He thrashed and kicked, his repeated blows rippling the surface of the jelly. "Let me go, you blasted-"
With a sudden flash of light and a soft sucking sound, the substance vanished, spitting McCoy onto the floor. Dazed, he sat there for several moments, chest heaving, then stood slowly on shaky legs. Before him, a bank of sample refrigerators emitted a low thrumming noise as their temperature regulators cycled, a far cry from the previous ear-splitting whine.
McCoy rested one hand against the wall of the room, blinking slowly, mind whirling. Where the heck did I just go? And how did I get back?
Spock raised an eyebrow. "Fascinating."
"Ditto." Kirk studied the tablet. "Did you check your rad suit for leakage? Just saying…"
"Thoroughly. And I had the containment room swept with a fine-toothed tricorder. Nothing out of the ordinary." McCoy crossed his arms over his chest. "You'll find the associated documentation attached to my request. I've been through decontamination, a micro-cellular examination, neurological evaluation, the whole shebang." He shook his head. "Nothing that explains what in blue blazes is happening!"
"Could it have been a psychological episode?" Spock peered into McCoy's eyes intently. "You were recalling a disturbing incident you had recently experienced. Perhaps a delayed reaction to the away mission?"
McCoy looked away. "Well, I might've believed that if it hadn't been for everything else that happened before I revisited those events."
Kirk scrolled through the paperwork, pausing to study various readouts. He passed the tablet to Spock, who did likewise, occasionally making whispered comments in the captain's ear.
Setting the device to one side, Spock glanced over at the screen. "In your report, you also refer to an incident that occurred on the turbolift yesterday?"
McCoy rubbed his cheek, feeling the rasp of stubble there. "You'll love this one…"
"Bridge." McCoy shifted the bowl of granola to one side, dribbling chocolate milk down the sleeve of his tunic. Man's gotta eat a balanced breakfast, staff meeting or no staff meeting. He leaned against the wall of the turbolift as it began to ascend through the shaft, and scooped up a spoonful of cereal, shoving it into his mouth.
The flavour of oats, nuts, and various dried fruits blended with the creamy milk as it crunched between his teeth. After a night of enough tossing and turning to turn his brains into butter, it was a wonder he was even upright. Well, if medical school taught me one thing, it's how to function on fumes.
He, along with the rest of the department heads, had received a summons to assemble that morning for a review of preparations for the quarterly staff evaluations. And I'll bet a month's supply of vitamin supplements Jim's forgotten all about it. Can't expect a man who's managing some 500 people to remember every little detail. Not to mention all the higher-ups he's got to answer to. Heck, he may not have even called the meeting, authorization or no. McCoy scooped up a second spoonful of cereal. I just hope he's not in the middle of a conference call when I-
The turbolift doors swished open. Stuffing the granola into his mouth, McCoy swallowed hard and strode forward.
Into open air.
Cereal flew everywhere. McCoy windmilled his arms frantically, but it was no use. The ground dropped out beneath him. With a scream, he pitched forward, falling further and further down through a series of decks. As he flew past, he observed various crewmembers going about their business, completely oblivious to his plight. Wake up! Wake up! Mayday!
After what seemed like an eternity, he landed with a thud on his feet, sending vibrations up through his body. McCoy blinked several times, reaching backwards until his hands touched a rough wall. Bracing himself, he looked around, trying to get his bearings. Where am I?
He clutched his chest, heart pounding. All around him, stars twinkled and glittered. Out in space? He dragged in a few quick breaths, willing himself to calm down. So how am I not freezing, or exploding into bits? Why can I breathe? He took a few halting steps forward, then sideways, testing the ground he walked on. Glanced down. More stars. What is this, some sort of space terrarium?
McCoy wandered the perimeter of the enclosure for several moments, his mind spinning. I'm alive. I know that. What I don't know is, where I am, how I got here, or how to get back. If I can. Does anyone even know I'm gone? The granola he had managed to eat churned in his gut. Feeling dizzy, he lowered himself to the ground, leaning back against the wall.
Which was no longer there.
"Ahh!" McCoy flopped backwards, skull making contact with the floor. Groaning, he reached for the back of his head, eyes closed.
"Leonard?" The sound of a chair spinning. A figure darted towards the turbolift and jumped up, kneeling at his side, then grabbed his arms and propped him into a seated position.
McCoy opened his eyes. Though his vision was blurry, he could make out the shapes of several crewmembers at their stations and the wide viewscreen stretching across the front of the room. The bridge…how? He glanced up at his "rescuer", who studied him with a concerned expression on her face. "Nyota…"
"Got a little lift sick, huh, Leonard?" Her lips curved into a smile.
"Let's just say my space legs went AWOL for a moment." He winced as she helped him slowly stand up. Some of the other bridge staff paused in their tasks to see what was happening. "As y'all were," he assured them, waving them back to their duties. "Jim here?" he asked, tugging his uniform back into place.
"No, he's in conference room four for the department head meeting," Uhura replied, glancing at a nearby screen, "which you and I are about to be late for." She reached for her tablet and ushered him out the bridge door, pausing as it slid shut behind them. "I can tell him you need a moment, if you want."
McCoy shook his head. "No, what I need is a steaming cup of java." He put his hand on her shoulder. "Really, I'll be right as rain once I get something hot and caffeinated in me. Shall we go?"
Uhura covered a smile. "You might want to do something about that cranberry first." She pinched the dried fruit between her fingers and removed it from his chin, then handed it to him.
"Tsk. Forgot to look in the mirror this mornin'." McCoy followed her down the hallway towards the conference rooms. Glancing sideways, he rubbed the sore spot on his head. One more meeting. Just get me through one more meeting without…whatever this is…
"Wow. That's….that's pretty weird, all right." Kirk leaned back in his chair, shivering. "You did seem pretty distracted that day. But, you know, I never expected it was something like this. I just thought you were thinking about work stuff…staff conflicts, scheduling physicals, patients, new comebacks to use on Spock-"
"-which do not fall under the category of 'work stuff'." Spock frowned. "That was the final occurrence?"
McCoy yawned. "Aside from a raging case of insomnia, and misplacing my toothbrush somewhere between the sink and the holder this mornin', yeah." He twisted his ring from side to side, then indicated the tablet. "You'll see I've sentenced myself to a couple week's leave and an appointment with some specialists once we hit the Ambrose system. In the meantime, Collier'll be takin' over my duties in sickbay, and I'll be warmin' a bed all day."
Kirk glanced down at the bottom of the page. "Well, if you're sure about this…" He reached for the stylus, hesitating. "You're not just trying to get a free trip to Joyland on Ambrose VII-"
"Oh, for the love of - Jim, just sign it!" McCoy stabbed a finger at the signature box, As he did so, the blue gem from his ring popped out onto the desk. He bit back a curse. "Cheap jeweller…just had it resized a month ago, and now…" He picked up the jewel and sighed. A vein of red ran through the center. "Wait…this isn't…" His brow furrowed. "This is the wrong stone. Right ring, wrong…" McCoy shook his head. "Used to have a sapphire, now I've got…this. You know what it is?" He held it out to the others, who studied it carefully.
Kirk shrugged. "Never seen one of those before. Spock?"
The Vulcan removed his tricorder from his belt and scanned the gem. After a few seconds, he set down the probe and studied the readout. "Ah. What we have here is an artificial composite mineral shell-"
"A fake, then." McCoy puffed out a breath of air. He fisted his hands at his sides. "Why, that swindling little-"
"-housing a sophisticated bioelectrical matrix," Spock continued, "capable of producing distortions in cognitive and spatial perception." He turned the tricorder around so McCoy and Kirk could see the display. "Rather sophisticated in construction and design. If you'll recall, we employed similar devices at the Academy during planetary environment-"
"-simulations. Of course." Kirk finished. He looked up at McCoy. "Remember, Bones? The lava fields on D'Antreb Prime? Dust storms of Saunseka III? Remember how they always used to glitch?"
"Oh, brother," McCoy replied, nodding. "Don't forget Gien II and those infernal underground tunnels. Afraid I was going to be buried alive every time a rock so much as crumbled. I just kept thanking the Lord above it was nothing…but a…simulation…" His jaw dropped. "Wait a minute…" He snatched the gem from Spock's hand and held it up to the light, glaring at it. "Everything I been going through this week…it's all just some blasted video game?!"
"I tell you, he looked at me like I could reach through the screen and wring his neck…" McCoy cut a piece of his steak and lifted it to his mouth, chewing. "Now tell me; am I really that scary?"
"With or without a hypo in your hand?" Kirk reached for the salad bowl and served himself, then poured a dollop of dressing on the greens.
"I don't know about usually, but if you were eating during the video call…ew." Uhura took a sip of iced tea. "Close your mouth when you chew."
"Yes, mother." McCoy set his fork to the side. "Anyway, after I reassured the man I didn't have homicide on my mind, he told me what must have happened." He folded his hands on the table. "Turns out some guy brought in his VR gaming system to get the malfunctioning crystals replaced around the same time as I dropped off my ring, and, well, he got the two things mixed up. Can you believe it?" He shook his head, smiling. "All this time I think I'm losing my marbles, when it's just a glitch in the animation. I feel kind of stupid now."
"One can hardly blame you for questioning your sanity, all things considered." Spock tore a roll and spread butter on it. "Particularly as the device augmented your perception of reality and no one else's." He took a bite of the roll, chewed and swallowed.
"That's true." McCoy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "He's sending me the sapphire via courier. I told him where we were headed. Hope that's all right."
Kirk nodded. "Not like we're on a top secret mission or anything. Just routine diplomatic ya-de-ya, the usual. You know."
"You're looking much better now, Leonard" Uhura took another sip of iced tea. "Doesn't he look better?"
"Yeah," Kirk agreed, twirling a leaf of spinach on his fork. He pointed it at McCoy. "A little less rough around the edges. And your eyes…the whites're white again."
"I feel better." McCoy smiled. "A good night's sleep, a shower, and a shave'll do wonders for ya. Not to mention a reasonable explanation for the last freaky week…" He shuddered. "Phew. What a nightmare."
"Go ahead and cancel your doctor's appointment," Kirk said, reaching for his cola, "but I'm not rescinding your request for shore leave. As of now, you're officially on break. Captain's orders." He took a drink.
"Eh, I could probably do with a little vacation anyway. Something nice and soothing…no black holes or phantom people." McCoy rested his hand on his chin.
"How about Joyland?" Kirk shrugged. "I know a girl there who can get us free tickets to the mud fights…Zabalena, remember? The redhead with the yellow eyes and-" He tucked his fists under his arms and flapped them up and down "-white wings? C'mon, you met her…when we stopped on Terrovius. Spring break, our sophomore year?"
McCoy frowned. "Was that the same girl who tried to get you to incubate her eggs over the weekend while she and that Tellarite trader went moon-skiing?"
"Yeah, that's the one. Great girl. Wonderful sense of humor."
McCoy re-filled his glass from the iced tea pitcher. "Hilarious. Especially the part where she forgot to mention the eggs were due to hatch in a day. Now that was a fun time. Five little beaks nipping at your nonexistent feeding ducts, and I had to patch you up afterwards."
Kirk rubbed his right armpit, then his breastbone, then the back of his neck. "Yeah, well I had to endure seven whole hours of tests and transfusions. Not to mention all the bedside giggles." He glared at McCoy.
Uhura snickered. When Kirk turned his frown towards her, she shrugged. "I'm sorry." She danced her fork across the plate. "Just having a hard time picturing you as a mommy."
"I confess, despite your affinity for leadership, I too am finding it difficult to imagine you in a…maternal role." Spock dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a napkin.
"Hey, I could've done all right…if she'd given me a little warning first." Kirk speared a pearl onion with his fork. "That, and some baby bottles…" he added, closing his mouth around the vegetable. "After all that, I'd say she owes me one, wouldn't you?"
"I pass." McCoy held up a hand. "The only thing I aim to do planetside is find a nice, cozy little nook, and crawl inside it for a few days." McCoy leaned back in his chair. "I think the universe owes me that much, don't you?"